


Mysterium Fidei

by tawnyPort



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Gen, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:17:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawnyPort/pseuds/tawnyPort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You never told a single motherfucker walking this planet what went down here. Wasn't the business of nobody but you, him and God. She wasn't your mother or your girlfriend or even your motherfucking friend. Maybe if you told her, though, maybe she'd leave. You know you'd walk away from it if you could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mysterium Fidei

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CredibilityProblem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CredibilityProblem/gifts).



You met her, of all the motherfucking places, in a church. It could have been any church in the city because you'd started visiting all of them after he dismissed you, pushed you out like a scrap, like a piece of refuse that sullied his precious altar when you both FUCKING WELL KNEW it was the other way around, brother... but it was your church. The church that used to be yours. The church that wasn't motherfucking going to be ANYONE'S by the end of the night. You spent too long planning this shit to let one more person stand in your fucking way but that didn't mean you were up and about involving an innocent in this. This was between three people and she wasn't one of them.

She was sitting in the back, just like you always did, but instead of sliding into silent contemplation of the colors and flames of the stained glass windows the way you liked to do you could see, as you watched her, that her eyes were tracing the motherfucking shapes of the buttresses or what the fuck ever those things holding the ceiling up were getting called. No matter, they weren't long for this fucking world anyway. You almost hated to interrupt her because you knew how it put you right the fuck off when some stranger came all up on you and interrupted your reverie but she needed to leave. NOW.

She jumped a little when you put your hand on her shoulder but didn't immediately turn to look at you. You could see her in profile as she slowly lowered her chin, closed her eyes and drew a long, slow breath. Composing herself, though from where you were standing she might as well have been a statue for how composed she already was. She was beautiful, you'd fucking give her that, for all that she had probably ten years on you or more. Piles and piles of long ink black hair, skin so fair and smooth it looked unnatural, and when she finally looked at you her eyes were as green and sharp as any broken bottle on the street.

“Yes?”

Her stare got you all kinds of unsettled suddenly and you shuffled a little bit in place. “Please leave.”

The corner of her mouth lifted slightly and that was motherfucking irritating because you didn't say anything funny as far as you could be observing. “Excuse me?”

“I'm asking you to get your departure on.” You withdrew your hand from her shoulder, lifted your chin, narrowed your eyes and did your best to look intimidating and not like a rich kid gone to seed. You'd tried it before with only occasional success.

“Is this your church?” Her tone was even and measured but there was motherfucking steel in it, toughness and a challenge that said she was not going to be easy to get off that pew.

“Church don't belong to any one motherfucker NO MATTER WHAT SOME MOTHERFUCKERS might have to say about it.” Your raised voice rang out in the still, chilly air.

“It certainly doesn't,” she replied, turning to lean over the back of the pew she was sitting in, “which is why I want to know why I should leave just because you're shouting at me.” She looked you up and down in a way that made you feel like the tiniest motherfucker to ever stand upright. “I've been shouted at by better.”

“There's a motherfucker in here has got it into his head that he OWNS THE WORD AND DICTATES THE SALVATION but that is the privilege of one motherfucker only and it's been a long time since he up and got his visit on to this place.” Your hand was digging into the back of her pew—she was sitting in it like she owned it, it was her pew, there was no conversation about it—but your eyes were on the altar. Maybe he'd come out. Maybe he'd see you, see the shit he'd created when he swept you out like a piece of trash, like refuse that was dirtying his altar when you both knew it was the other fucking way around. Nobody dirtier than him, but you'd never get yourself clean enough again either.

“And you think whatever you're going to do that I can't be here for will bring Him back.” She didn't ask it, she stated it like she was finishing your sentence and it was true enough how she put it.

“It's going to motherfucking do something to get somebody's attention, sister.”

“What if I told you you already had _my_ attention? Would you still want me to leave?” She brought her other hand around, now fully twisted to lean on the back of the pew and look up at you.

“You ain't got any way to get your help on for me.” The way she looked at you made you feel worse than small now. You felt oddly motherfucking naked and shivered from the sense of it, as though the cold drafts of the church were up and blowing right on your spine.

“That doesn't seem fair. You don't even know me.” She extended one slim, pale hand to you, her nails a dark jade green and neat. The motion caused the sleeve of her blouse to fall away, exposing tattoos on her forearm. “Porrim.”

Your own broad hand with its chewed nails and long fingers looked awkward wrapped around hers but you shook anyway. Why the fuck not? “Gamzee.”

She nodded, looking satisfied, her mass of black hair shifting in the dim light. “Why don't you sit down, Gamzee?” Porrim tilted her head toward her pew but you snorted and shook your head back at her.

“Nope.” You stalked toward the far end of the pew to put some distance between you and this bitch. “I got shit to get done and that does not motherfucking involve you so I'm going to ask you again to get yourself up and go.”

“Nope,” she parroted back, shrugging and turning to keep her eyes on you. “I have things to get done too and they don't involve you but they do involve this church so maybe you should leave. I was here first, after all.” Porrim swung her legs up and crossed them on the bench, getting her motherfucking comfort on apparently. Rude as shit.

“You don't look very busy, sister, and ain't shit getting done in here that can't get done at any church in the entire motherfucking world.” She had no idea how much truth those words were up and bearing. Not a single thing that happened here was unique or special or singular, just a motherfucking parade of sinners, no difference between them.

“Oh, now that's not true.” Another shake of her head. “You smelled like gasoline. I don't think you'd get the same satisfaction from burning down just any—”

“YOU SHUT YOUR MOTHERFUCKING MOUTH.” Oh, seeing her flinch was got your heart feeling some motherfucking gratified. About time somebody respected your voice and the truth you were bringing. “This building ain't fit to have the name of church up on it anymore, it has been DESECRATED and needs to be unmade. The work being done here is motherfucking TAINTED BY THE MAN WHO IS LEADING HIS FLOCK INTO LIES.”

Her eyes were wide but she merely swung her legs down and stood. Was this bitch actually approaching you right now? “This church is a monument to a religion, not to any one person. People are flawed, God isn't supposed to be. Why punish a house of God for the flaws of a person?”

“Because that motherfucker ain't got NO RIGHT TO SHARE THIS HOUSE WITH GOD. He ain't just got his flaws, sister, he's out in the world and damaging others, spreading the flaws and blasphemy around until it's permeating the walls and the curtains and the motherfucking glass in the windows and there's only one fucking way to get it out and that is fire.”

Her eyebrows lifted but she continued to regard you calmly, almost passively but for the light in her eyes and the tension in her throat. “For no one can lay a foundation other than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ. Now if anyone builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw—each one's work will become manifest, for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed by fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done.”

“If the work that anyone has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If anyone's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire. You ain't got to get your quote on with me, I know what the motherfucking Book says about fire.” You gave this a lot of thought. The majority of your waking moments for the last eighteen motherfucking months if not longer had been devoted to trying to figure out how to wipe it all away, what he'd done to you, what he'd taken, how to fill the hole it had left in you. Your conclusion was that you couldn't. The hole was too big, the loss too dear.

“But you said this is your church--”

“This motherfucker was my church. Was. Ain't no longer, I ain't welcome to share in the Word here.”

“The word of God is supposed to be available to everyone. That's the point of it.” Porrim shifted in her seat, crossing her legs and leaning toward you. “What happened?”

You hesitated for a long moment. You never told a single motherfucker walking this planet what went down here. Wasn't the business of nobody but you, him and God. She wasn't your mother or your girlfriend or even your motherfucking friend. Maybe if you told her, though, maybe she'd leave. You know you'd walk away from it if you could.

“Nothing that happened to me wasn't shit that hadn't happened to hundreds of other kids across the country, shit, around the world. There wasn't nothing special about me except that I got me some big motherfucking brown eyes and soft lips and big hands for a young man my age.” You held them up and mimicked his deep, syrupy voice. If she came here she'd know exactly who you motherfucking meant. “He used them all. He touched me, he touched himself and made me watch, he made me up and touch him, kiss him, swallow him, let him put his mouth on me. This what you put your money in the pan every week for, sister, to make sure this man gets his rocks off to little boys doing things they don't understand?”

You moved into the end of the pew and stalked your way towards her. She brought this shit on herself and if she wanted to get the fuck out of it now she'd have to turn her back on you to go. “Then came the day he didn't stop, the day he grabbed me and motherfucking pushed me down and PENETRATED ME. Is that what you want to think about when you're getting your prayer on? The good Father groaning against the back of my neck as I'm crying into the crook of my elbow, not understanding why this man who spent years telling me he loved me and God loved me and it was all the same, why he was motherfucking HURTING ME LIKE THAT?”

She wasn't backing away from you, not even when you closed the distance and got your holler on right up in her face. Why wouldn't this bitch just LEAVE? “You want more? How about the ultimate motherfucking punch line to the joke of God's love? How about when the not so little boy shows up for service on Sunday because he's a fucking altar boy and he loves serving the Church and the priest, the man who is responsible for everything he knows of the Word and God's love, he tells him he can't serve no more. HE TOLD ME I WAS TAINTED, that what had happened had left a mark on my soul and I could get my motherfucking atonement on and that was good and right there was no place for me with him on that altar anymore.” You leaned in, getting your face right up and in hers. “He put his sin into me and punished me for it and he still walks around like he ain't got a thing on himself.”

Porrim froze for a moment then put one hand on your shoulder, trying to push you back. Fuck that. When you didn't move she inched herself backwards instead. “And what do you think gives you the right to take this place away from everyone who wasn't hurt here? From people like me who need this—”

“GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKING LISTEN ON, SISTER. There ain't nothing here for you, not for ANYONE. All this,” you cried, swinging your arms around you, “is a FUCKING LIE. You come here and you are PRAYING TO A LIE. This place HARBORS SINNERS AND PUNISHES THE INNOCENT. Where is the fucking mercy in that? I was shown none so I ain't going to fucking show any now to anybody and that is starting to include you. Ain't shit in here you need.”

“You don't get to say what I do and don't need,” she fired back, suddenly spitting mad like a little white viper there. “You don't know me any more than I know you and that means you are not qualified to say what a sinner like me gets out of her harbor. Trust me, this place doesn't want me any more than it wants you. You think I'd be sitting here in the middle of the night if I was welcome here either? But you don't see me burning the place down.”

“Well that is your motherfucking prerogative but it seems like that puts you and me at a place where we can't get our agreement on as to what to do. Why should I even listen to you? You admit you're a sinner. Maybe I should just let you burn with the rest of this place.” You moved forward to her again. If she wouldn't turn her fucking back then you'd just back her out. She wasn't near big enough to stand up against you.

“I don't think you're going to do that.” She shrugged, just one shoulder lifting and dropping and infuriating the fuck out of you, this cocky bitch and her smug attitude. “You wouldn't have spent all this time trying to get me to leave if you really had any intention of killing me. Because let's not forget, that's what that would be. You'd be killing me and then whatever innocence you claim to have left would be gone. You're not a killer, are you?”

“I motherfucking well could be. I could get my murder on to get this out of me if that's what it took. You really want me to prove it, sister?” She wasn't backing out of the pew anymore, just standing there with you chest to chest and glaring up at you.

“I don't believe this is what you want. None of it. You don't want to kill me and you don't want to burn this place down.”

“YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME—” She silenced you with a shove, one of those perfect little paws slamming into the center of your chest. You almost stumbled with the motherfucking surprise of it.

“I think you just want someone to care. Well guess what, you loudmouth gangly asshole,” she shot back, her tone still even and casual, “I care. I want you to get help. I love this place, I love God and I need to believe He loves me and He loves you. He didn't stop loving you just because some... some predator decided to come between you and Him. He's still there and this isn't what He would want.”

“HOW THE FUCK DO YOU KNOW?” You hated yourself for the way your voice cracked at the end. She didn't know. Nobody motherfucking knew. The mind of God was unknowable by men.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in his should not perish, but should have everlasting life. Does that really sound like someone who is going to turn His back on you because someone who claims to preach His word hurt you, Gamzee?” The light in her eyes was somehow brighter but she was also leaning just a little away. This looked like her last fucking gambit but it worked like she'd taken a motherfucking metal bat to your torso, the wind all flying out of you and nothing left but pain.

“Then what is a motherfucker supposed to do? This place was all I fucking had.” Your shoulder slumped and your head fell forward and you were just completely fucking blown. This was it. This was the end of it and for all you gave a fuck at this point the place could burn down with you in it.

“You're supposed to trust in His love. That's where you started and you can keep coming back to that.” She bent down just a little, was all she needed with her tininess, and looked you in the eye. Her face was calm, relaxed, open, and everything about it said she believed every motherfucking word she was spouting. “And you're maybe supposed to let me buy you a cup of coffee. Somewhere that isn't here. You want a cup of coffee, Gamzee?”

You snarled at her. “Don't talk to me like a motherfucking child, sister, I ain't some wailing baby you can cuddle and hush by putting a warm drink in my hands.”

She stood straight again. “No, but not everybody drinks coffee. If you wanted something else that was your chance to say so.” Porrim turned, finally, walking out of the pew. “Come on. You don't look like a tea drinker but I guess we'll find out.”

You weren't sure why but you followed her, leaving the gas cans and your infernal ambitions behind for at least one more night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to suchanadorer, diemarysues, chakrabot and opus-pocus for editorial guidance and cheerleading.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Distortion Party (She Wants the D(estructio+n o+f the Patriarchy) Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/730175) by [lantadyme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lantadyme/pseuds/lantadyme)




End file.
